Confetti

 In shimmer of laughter

Wrapped childhoods gain warmth, gilt

In the the glow of raindrops

New found romance, a new found us, meaning

In the cracking warmth of families

A settled base, finds us cocoons

In the glint of spectacles

Old age finds its’ sparkle

Our lives held together by shining memories

Gathered painstakingly

And just once I will throw up this glittering treasure

Walk though this golden rain of confetti

To disappear

Evanescent as them all

—shubha

Foreign tongue

 Foreign tongue

Poetry is a foreign tongue

Tracing indecipherable contours

On a page

Until it bypasses understanding

In words

To leave sketches in emotion

Until it bypasses your mind

To stir your heart

Then poetry sprouts

Among the words on a page

And in our experience

It is not to be understood , but felt

Known in the depths of feeling

Not the shreds of analysis

And we learn to feel, relate

To a foreign tongue

Until it turns familiar

Poetry is

when the other

becomes our own .

—shubha